


and they wonder.

by Random_ag



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Feelings, M/M, Skull Kid is Fucking Sad, also skull kid uses they/them pronouns, how do I even tag this, mmmmmmmmm, that oughta do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:02:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28291344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_ag/pseuds/Random_ag
Summary: When there is nobody and nothing you are left to think and think and think and think.
Kudos: 8





	1. First comes Death

Water is rushing.

Like a creek.

Somebody is chirping far away.

Small birds.

Grass and stems of flowers sway with the soft wind.

The sky is almost impossibly bright.

The trees murmur a song.

Faraway lost voices harmonize with it.

They breathe.

Skull Kid lays abandoned somewhere too far into the woods to be found and wonders, feeling their chest rip apart and burn without pain nor screams nor fanfare, if this is what dying feels like.


	2. Second comes Woe

It is not him.

They have grown out of the hope that maybe, this time, it will be him.

It is never him.

He is gone.

Gone!

He is one with the ground and air and the blades of grass he wore the color of.

He is gone.

A part of him lives on in other bodies, and they always look similar, and smell similar.

But it is never him.

It is never the right part of him.

It is never the right body.

It is never the right smell.

It is never the smell of petrichor after the long forest rain.

Skull Kid lays on the patch of moss on top of a rocky cliff and wonders, looking with eyes that get more and more humid at the new green blur of heroism threading the path through the woods, if this is what heartbreak feels like.


	3. Third comes Loss

Their vision dims.

It was blurry already, and it's getting worse.

Shapes fade more and more.

Colors disappear.

They do not know which is more frightening.

A world of pure light? Or just black?

They used to dream of black.

Then they used to dream of bright colors overtaking them; then of him.

Now there's never only black.

They keep their eyes closed often.

To adapt.

Just in case.

How can one adapt to endless blinding light?

They do not know.

A thought strikes them.

If somebody hugged them, they would not know their face.

Skull Kid swings their legs from a tree branch and wonders, as the outlines of their vision grow whiter as time keeps on passing with its slow and lonely stream, if this is what grieving feels like.


	4. Fourth comes Rage

Alone.

Alone alone alone.

The leaves don't rustle.

The birds don't chirp.

Alone.

The bugs aren't buzzing.

The wind isn't blowing.

Alone.

When there is nobody and nothing you are left to think and think and think and think.

Alone.

The colors aren't coloring.

The tastes aren't tasting.

Alone

The flowers don't smell.

The sun doesn't heat.

Alone alone alone.

Alone.

Skull Kid waits for the unmoving creek to make them float far away and wonders, listening to the complete and utter silence of the world coming from every single one of their senses, if this is what wrath feels like.


	5. Fifth comes Relief

They lost their arms.

They do not remember when or where.

They still feel them.

Somewhere, in the wide brave world, there are their arms.

Laying.

Writhing.

Clutching.

Shivering.

Dragging themselves across unseen terrain and being dragged by it.

After a while, they learn to ignore what they feel through them.

They doubt they'll get them back soon anyways, or even if at all.

In some way, they have made a precarious peace with the idea of not being whole.

It doesn't bother them too much.

All that bothers them is that playing their flute is a little harder now.

Skull Kid lays on a dead fallen trunk and wonders, practicing playing all the songs they know and especially the one that the woods and the forest children and him played for and with them, if this is what beginning to heal a little feels like.


	6. Sixth comes Him

The smell is not his.

It is still a pleasant surprise, because nobody ever comes to see them.

They stop playing and smell the air.

Grass and far away lands.

Hello, they call.

The footsteps stop.

They turn a little to where they think he might be in the endless white.

I won't eat you, they say.

It takes a moment, but he starts walking towards them again.

They tilt their head.

It's been a while, they say.

The voice is not his.

I don't think I've ever met you, it replies cautiously, as if walking on eggshells.

You haven't, they say, Others have but not you. Not until now, at least.

Others who?, it asks.

Others of you, they answer.

The voice falls silent.

Others of me?, it echoes.

Others of you, they repeat.

What do you mean?, it asks.

Others of you, they reply simply.

My ancestors?

You can call them that.

They hope they are looking at his face. It would be so nice to see it.

Their arms lunge gently forward to hold it in their palms.

They ignore the alien terrain brushing against their fingers.

Neither speak.

They feel something awkward in the way they are looked at.

You're blind, he murmurs.

I am, they nod.

I'm sorry, he whispers. I didn't realize.

Is it hard to notice?

A little bit.

And the arms?

The arms?

I lost them. Is it hard to notice?

He does not reply.

I don't know where they are now, they explain simply. It's been a while.

I'm sorry.

It's ok.

Does it... Hurt?

Hm. No.

He waits. Then sits next to them.

They spend some time in silence, listening. The woods sing and heave with small life.

It feels fine.

Just.

Fine.

He is not him.

He will never be him.

He will never have that part of him.

It is fine.

They feel the grief and anger and death and the way their heart splinters, and it is fine.

It will be fine.

Someday, in some way, it will be fine.

Skull Kid begins to play the song of the woods, the song of a girl clad in green, for the descendant of his long gone only love and wonders.

He hums in tune.

What an unlikely duet.

Skull Kid plays and wonders.

If this is how moving on feels like.


End file.
